What's Left Behind
by pseudo-shigure
Summary: Setting after DH, SLASH. DMHP.. now, that the war is over, things just make Harry and Draco got closer somehow. But  Harry has Ginny and Draco doesn't have the heart to disappoint his parents anymore. So, will it work? Your reviews are highly appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** What's Left Behind

**A//N:** thank to lady mocona who had helped me with this fic, because certainly you're the expert in this fandom, not me. And this fic is not betaed, so just bear with my grammar and typos kay.

"I'm sure tomorrow's paper would have something like 'The Die Hard Potter' written on their front page," said the youngest of the Weasley boys with his hand lay out before himself as if reading the invisible letter. Hermione chuckled from the joke.

Harry heard his mate then talking about the nickname the press might give him and Hermione. But, really, he couldn't focus his mind on anything else but his bed and stack of sandwiches made by Kreacher. He just wanted to get some rest. That was all.

His mind was really not there that he almost bumped into Ron's back as the taller boy stopped abruptly on his spot, wand somehow already raised. Harry's eyes trailed where the wand was actually pointing to. And apparently it was pointed at a certain blonde Slytherin boy, Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy," addressed Ron, anger and hatred thick in his voice, as usual.

The blonde boy didn't retort. He just stood there with his stoic, arrogant face despite his defenseless state considering he had no wand or his friends to protect him. Harry watched his eyes moved from Ron's wand to the red haired face, then to Hermione's, before finally met Harry's green eyes. And for a split second Harry could see hopelessness in those cold, grey eyes.

"Ron, I don't think the wand is necessary," said Harry, his eyes still attached to Malfoy's. He could almost feel what Malfoy was feeling since it shown clearly in his eyes no matter hard he tried to look impassive to the others.

"Harry, he tried to kill us back then!"

Of course, what Ron said was wrong. Draco didn't try to kill them; the Dark Lord ordered him to hold up Harry Potter in Room of Hidden Things and that what he did. He wouldn't have the gut to kill them. Maybe because he was a coward. Or maybe he wasn't as evil as his aunt Bellatrix or even his father. Nevertheless, he didn't say anything to correct it. He knew it wasn't matter whether he was trying to kill them or not. He was on the losing side and therefore he was wrong in their eyes.

"He didn't try to kill us, Ron." Draco slightly raised an eyebrow in amusement as he heard Harry words. "He just did what he thinks he has to do. Just like us."

"If he really _thinks_, Harry, then he wouldn't take You-Know-Who side."

"But, Ron, don't you think that you might do the same if your whole family was Death Eaters," said Hermione. Ron turned his head at the girl; she knew her words sink into his mind somehow. And she knew he thinks she was right.

For a moment the red haired boy only glared at Malfoy. But then, with a grunt, he put back his wand. "Let's just go," he said before turning around and left the others. He walked so fast that his robes were swaying around him. Ron's reaction was understandable. Regarded what happened to his brother, it was obvious how Ron would react to Death Eaters like Malfoy.

Hermione gave a good look at Draco before turning at Harry. "Come, Harry. You need to rest."

"Yeah," the bespectacled boy glanced at his friend. He broke his gaze with Malfoy after what seemed like forever. "But, you just go ahead first," he said, indicating that he still have something to do with his archenemy.

"Are you sure?" the girl asked him, hesitant to leave him alone considering their track records to get into each others' throat.

"I'm good, Hermione," Harry gave her an assuring smile.

"I'll leave you then," she said before finally left the boys alone.

Harry's eyes were trailing her track until she was out of his eyes shot. Then he turned his head around so now he was, once again, facing Draco Malfoy.

"So, Malfoy," he started.

"Potter," Draco replied with usual iciness in his voice.

Both boys realize just how tense the air around them now. Not out of hate like it usually did. And maybe the lost of hate at each others was the main reason that it was so awkward and weird.

Harry knew that Malfoy didn't have any reason to loath him anymore. The Dark Lord had fall and Harry had saved his live even after all the things that he and his family had done to the 'Boy Who Lived'. And he too understood the predicament that Malfoy had been through and what had led him into the wrong path. That was all. They were now just a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, two houses that could never get along together. But held nothing else than that. And certainly not hatred, since hatred was such a strong feeling. It was just nothing.

And it was just strange to just stand there and didn't bear any strong feelings against each others. It was as if they lost a ground to stand upon.

"Is there anything you want to do or are we just going to stand here like this forever?" asked Malfoy with his usual sarcasm.

"Oh, yes." Harry suddenly remember about something and fished out a wand from his back pocket. "Your wand." He handed it back to its real owner. "I don't need it anymore. I already got mine back."

"Sure." Malfoy took back his wand and gazed at it as it was the most precious thing he ever had. Well, that was what most wizards felt toward their wand anyway. But it was different, the wand feel different. Potter had used his wand to challenge the Dark Lord and came out as the winner. It almost liked a new, different wand and yet it was still comfortably fitted his hand. There was trace of Harry in his wand.

Harry could only watch as the other boy examining his wand thoroughly. He felt like he would ruin the whole scene if he ever attempted to say something. So he stood in silence.

Until finally, Malfoy looked up at him and gave him a nod. He nodded back, and gave an excuse about his friends waiting for him before leaving.

"Wait, Potter!" Draco was calling out at him. And it sent shivers down Harry's spine that the voice didn't bear any trace of hatred, it was even almost friendly. It was foreign, but not totally unwelcome.

He turned around and saw the troubled look on his-if he could say- former nemesis' face. Draco couldn't even look at the other boy. And when he did, he would frown or take a deep breath, before finally turned away again.

The blonde boy didn't know how to bring himself to say the things he was suppose to say. It was hard really. Because they'd been hating each others since like ever, he had tried to kill Dumbledore-whose he knew was a very important figure for Harry-, and even just a couple of hours ago, he had tried to failed his missions and took him to the Dark Lord. But then Potter saved him, gave back his wand, and even acted so understanding about the whole thing. Just how was he supposed to act on that!

"You know what, Malfoy, just save it." Harry cut his train of thought. "Just save whatever it is you want to say until… Until you find a way to say it."

Malfoy frowned at that, perplexed. But then he smirked; he wasn't genuinely smiling, but that was close. "Yeah. Until then, then, Potter." Then he walked past the brown haired boy and left him alone at the hallway.

Now that there were no barriers between them, both boys knew that they could actually get along. Not best friends maybe, but definitely not enemies either.

XXX

Another a/n: I'm thinking to make a sequel out of it, and it's gonna be a Draco/Harry yes, in that order, because I don't really like Harry/Draco, and it's gonna be angst. But I wanna know what you guys think about it first. So R&R please…


	2. The First Encounter

What's Left Behind 2

After the war ended, Harry, The Boy who Lived—or whatever they called him after he beat the Dark Lord—spent the rest of his summer at The Burrows. Under a very insisting request of Mrs. Weasley of course, but it wasn't a bad idea so Harry got nothing to complain about.

It was a summer full of celebrations. Everyday, people—either from the Order, Hogwarts, and others he didn't even know—would come and join them for practically every meal time, and not very rarely just to see, or take a picture or/and ask an autograph from the boy who defeated the Dark Lord. And obviously, it didn't leave Harry much time to be alone.

But once again, it wasn't bad. He could still find a time to talk about Quidditch with Ron, could send letters to Hermione who was in Australia picking up her parents. And above all, and what he most grateful of, he could still find sometimes alone with Ginny.

He really didn't have times to be alone or just to talk with Ginny since what feel like forever. (sebenarnya apa sih ras yg mau lo maksud di kalimat ini??gw beneran ga ngerti deh,,) And he had so many things he wanted to tell her. So many explanations he had to make, though Ginny actually never asked one.

Well, of course, his teenage hormones kicked in sometimes. But, with the Weasleys around them, there weren't much they can do really.

And then summer was over. Ginny went back to Hogwarts for her last year. And Harry just needed to go on with his life. Well, he obviously couldn't just sit around and bask in the afterglow of the victory for the rest of his life anyway. And no it wasn't like he thought it was a victorious triumphant at all. He knew they lost so much to accomplish that, but a lot of people thought it was indeed a victorious triumphant, and he just couldn't help to sway to think about it that way. But, seriously, it wasn't just _his_ victory. It was everyone's.

It was kind of odd actually. Without Lord Voldermort to kill, he could really live his life normally. Which was great, really. But still, odd. He had spent 7 years of his life, which was most of his entire teenage period, to think only about how to get rid of the Dark Lord. And now that he had gone, it was just new. It almost felt like he had lost the purpose of his life. Like he didn't know what to do.

He had talked about it with Ginny. She said it was probably good if he could get out of the circle that has been surrounding him these whole years and really started a new life. Well, not really cut off all the ties certainly, but just gave himself some space. And he thought she was probably right, why not as well to try it.

And so, here he was, at the number 12, Grimauld Place, moving up not the few possessions he had. Mrs. Weasley offered him a help to host a 'moving-up' party, but he refused. It wasn't that big of a thing anyway. He didn't have much belongings, it was pretty much only the ransack he'd been carrying around the past year and some other stuffs he added to the house. And well, it wasn't like he would be far apart from the Weasleys and his others friends. In fact, he has started up his week by applying for a job at the Ministry of Magic, with Ron, Hermione and some of his mates back from the Hogwarts. Ministry of Magic might not be his favorite institution, but Auror was definitely the only job he could ever want to have. It certainly could help him reliving his old days; fighting evil and such. Besides, Ginny was thinking to have the same job, so it really wasn't a bad decision.

Harry was sighing as he landed on his back against his four poster bed. All of his friends, who were insisting to help him to moving out, had already gone after a diner and a wine or two. He had checked all the rooms in the house, considering what he would do to each room but then decided that the whole house was too big for him alone and so he would just leave it that way. Well, it might need a little cleaning, but that was all he could offer to the house.

The house itself was really quiet. Empty. Well, of course it was empty since he and Kreacher were the only occupants in that house. And the house wasn't that quiet, considering it was a hold house and had its own creaking sounds and everything. But it was a big house and being alone—couldn't really count Kreacher as housemate here—was just… made Harry sighing for the umpteenth times in the past 10 minutes.

Maybe he just wasn't used to being alone without the Weasleys and all of his friends. Maybe he just wasn't used to the idea of having the big house for him alone. Might be he need a telly. He laughed silently. Well even though he grew up in a closet and didn't have as much time as any other Muggle kids to watch TV, he really couldn't shrug off the fact that he was a Muggleborn. That was probably the biggest change he'd bring to the house. He would bring a TV to the number 12, Grimauld Place. Oooh he imagined how furious Sirius' mother painting would be when she found out about it. A muggle stuff on her house. Great.

But tonight he didn't have TV, and he really couldn't buy it at that time since the store might've already closed by this hour. He sighed again. Maybe he could use a walk. So he got up, got his jacket—since it was already fall by now—and told Kreacher he'd be out and not to wait for him, and then he left.

Despite all those months he spent in that house, he never really got familiar with the area. He really didn't get the chance back then. But it seemed to him that the neighborhood was a fine one, quite like Privet Drive maybe. He smiled bitterly. It was funny how the thought of Privet Drive, a place that never gives him much good memory, could actually bring a longing feeling on his chest. He tried to shrug off that feeling immediately really wasn't the time to get emotional.

He saw a bar that still open at that hour. He might get some company from the bartender and drink a glass or two. There weren't much people at the bar. Couples of men looked concentrated on their pool game; a few others sat on their own tables, occupied with their own things; and there was only one old man that actually sat at the stall, so he chose that spot, a few chairs away from the man.

He asked for a beer from the bartender and took a look at his surrounding while the man was getting him his drink. It was Sunday night, and football game was on. It was an Arsenal (hah! maksa bgt lo hrs ada arsenal) game but no one was really paying attention to it. Wasn't the club base it seemed, Harry decided.

"You're not local," the bartender said, not asking, to him. He was a fat man with a long hair and walrus-like moustache, wearing a flannel shirt and a white wife-beater underneath with a rag slung on one shoulder.

"I'm not," Harry lied, "Just happened to be around," he added after taking a sip from his bottle. Obviously, he couldn't tell the bartender that he just moved in. It would be too much trouble if he asked about the exact location of his house and everything.

Judging from how everyone's knew the bartender and quite familiar to each other, it seemed that most of them were locals. Might be, except the man who was sitting alone at the dark corner of the room. He was skimming through a newspaper and scribbling something on it every now and then. The man seemed about his age, tall and slender. Harry couldn't see his face clearly since it was dark and he'd been practically ducking his head into the newspaper. There was something about him that was familiar yet seemed too odd to be found in such place.

"That boy," the bartender offered as he saw Harry'd been paying attention to the man at the other end of the room, "he's been coming here these past few days. Never say anything besides ask for his drink. Then he'd sit there with his newspapers," he explained while cleaning up some glasses. "He dressed funny though. Always wearing black robes. Not coats, robes. Funny eh?"

"Robes?" The bartender nodded. "I believe you don't know his name, right?" Harry said, slightly hoping the other man would answer the opposite. But he shook his head.

"But I know one thing, though. He must've come from a rich family. I've been running this business for so long. I knew what kind of men that doesn't quite fit in this place." That was too much coincidence.

"Does he, by any chance, have a white blonde hair and grey eyes?" Harry asked cautiously. The bartender looked quite taken aback by the question.

"How do you know all that?"

"Well, he was my…" he wasn't so sure how to fill up the blank, "We went to the same school," he said then, before stood up and went to the corner table.

He took his step cautiously, as if one simple mistake would ruin everything. But he wasn't worry to ruin anything since, actually, he didn't even know whether what he was doing was right or wrong.

He was pretty sure that he had made every move as stealthy as possible so he wouldn't startle the other boy. But apparently it didn't work quiet well. It was a surprise really when the other man only stared at him with his usual bored eyes, and nothing represent hate or annoyed.

Harry thought that it was probably a good sign that the other man didn't try to ditch him off or anything. So he dared himself and stood before the man, greeting him.

"Malfoy," he said the word.

"Potter," he answered with almost the exact tone he had at the last time they met.

Harry hadn't seen him since that occurrence at Hogwarts. He heard news that he had to spend sometimes at Azkaban for attempting to kill Dumbledore, even despite the fact that he was underage when it happened. He could see the changes that foul place has done to him. His hair was now at shoulder length and looked rather unkempt than how Harry used to see it back in their school days. He could see a tattoo sneaked from under his white shirt and up into the left side of his neck. But it wasn't all, the lack of that spoiled brat expression was the one thin that made Harry felt as if he were talking to a man he'd never met before.

"How... what are you doing here?" Harry asked a question that'd been bugging his mind.

"When I supposedly doing my time at Azkaban you mean?" the blonde asked back. He didn't ask Harry to sit down with him, and obviously didn't have any interest to have a proper conversation. "Well, let's just say I can convince them that I was under pressured when I became a Death Eater and tried to kill Dumbledore."

"No... That's not what I mean. I mean, what are you doing _here_, in a muggle bar?" Harry tried to explain. Though actually he too couldn't help to wonder how he could escape from Azkaban.

"Having a drink." Malfoy answered matter-of-factly. And Harry was just about to snap at that answer. But then he realized that they were not the best of pals, whatever the blonde was doing he had every right to not tell it to him. And on top of everything why would he care about what Malfoy was doing. It wasn't his business.

But then, of course, the idea of Malfoy might plot something bad for muggles came into his mind. He knew he always felt that Malfoy had somehow changed, that he wasn't that spoiled pureblood maniac brat anymore, and the fact that he became a Death Eater was not entirely his decision to make. But still, he had that mark on his left arm.

And so, instead of walking away like he had originally planned, Harry sat down on the chair before the former Slytherin.

"What're you doing?" he asked, perplexed. It was as if all that signs he had sent him wasn't enough.

"Sitting," Harry answered with the same matter-of-fact tone Draco had used on him. And the blonde rolled his eyes.

"Sorry Potter, but in case the news haven't get into your head, I'm not one of your fan boy. So it'd be better if you just get the hell out of my sight."

"Maybe we could talk, Malfoy," Harry offered.

"There's nothing to talk about, Potter," the other boy replied shortly, didn't even bother to take his eyes off of his paper—which Harry just realized, was surprisingly a muggle newspaper.

"So Malfoy….," Harry tried to figure out the right way to ask the blonde about his suspicion. "… so uh, what do you think about muggle, Malfoy?"

The Slytherin Prince stared at him in disbelieve. Did Harry-bloody-Potter just ask him about what he thinks about muggle? Just what kind of a question wa—.

"Oh I see, Potter. A Death Eater, sitting in a muggle bar, reading a muggle newspaper. He must be plotting about something wicked, right? That's just so typical," he scowled.

"It's only normal if I wondered. It's just wrong to see you in this situation."

"Sure. And you, of course, feel the obligation to save the world before this evil pureblood maniac starts killing your precious muggles.

"What are you doing reading muggles papers, anyway?!" Harry asked, obviously trying to avoid the accusation the other made.

"Trying to find the most effective way to kill them," the blonde answered sarcastically.

"So funny, Malfoy."

"Just pissed off, nosy boy." And they stared at each other. It was funny really, how their old habit just didn't die easily. How they felt the need to argue even when it wasn't necessary. And how they believed they have to do that even when they actually wanted to just act civil to each other.

"Hey, look…" Harry tried to get the matter straight.

"I know. Old habit. It'd scare the shit out of me too if you were starting to go easy on me," the former Death Eater stated before Harry could even finish his words. Harry nodded knowingly.

"So.. What are you looking for?" asked Harry, pointing at classified ads that were marked with circles.

"Flat," the other answered shortly.

"Muggles flat?" Malfoy only answered it with a look that says 'duh'. "What happened to your mansion?" There was an awkward pause when Harry mention that place. It made them remember their inconvenient encounter at that place.

"Nothing," said the blonde finally, clearly still reluctant to have a little chit chat with his former archenemy. But the frown in Potter's face was annoying and he got the urge to get rid off it, immediately. "I want to try to live on my own, that's all."

"In a muggle flat?"

"Well, they don't know who Draco Malfoy is, do they?"

"Oh, I see." He could finally see the reason. It was ironic and sad that Malfoy had to find refuge at a muggle place at that time that the whole wizarding community that he and his family always proud of, turned their back on them, treated the pureblood Dark Eaters like them as a scum. "I'm actually just moved in to my own place too." Harry tried to bring a lighter subject. But Malfoy just nodded his head with disinterest. "Well, not my own place actually," Harry continued stubbornly, "It was Sirius' and he inherited it to me."

"You live at the Black's house?" Malfoy finally asked with some curiosity. He also didn't forget to add some dislike and shock in his tone when he asked that.

"It's not like I have anywhere else to live, Malfoy."

"You can live with the Weasels." Harry realized it wasn't an insult, or at least he realized Malfoy didn't really mean it. Old habits.

"As much as I feel like the_ Weasleys _are my family, they're not. And I really need to get some space, you know, to get away for a while from anybody." This time Malfoy nodded knowingly, sincerely, showed that somehow he too understood the feeling.

The blonde brought his focus back to his newspaper and, basically, just ignored Harry very effectively. But might be, Draco didn't do it intentionally. Might be he didn't know how to act through this whole new ground they stood upon. It was still foreign and awkward. And maybe it would stay like that forever, and he just didn't care about that because right now he had lots of more important things to think about other than just how-to-have-a-decent-chit-chat-with-the-Harry-Potter-without-having-the-urge-to-strangle-him.

"Hey, Malfoy," The blonde stared back at him indifferently, "maybe I can help you with the flat. I'm a muggleborn, you know."

"I'm very much aware of that. But thank you very much; I prefer to do this alone."

"Don't you ever think that we might be friends if the situation were different?" asked Harry dejectedly, obviously disappointed with the answer Malfoy just gave him.

"We also might still be an enemy."

"For Merlin sake! Do you have to act like that! And I swear your old habit wouldn't die off if you didn't at least try." Draco Malfoy was a real piece of something that would never fail to piss him off, Dark Eater or not.

And the said piece of something, apparently, found Harry outburst of emotion was interesting as he couldn't even suppress his chuckle. The chuckle that made Harry stunned. Because it was a common knowledge that Draco Malfoy didn't chuckling, he was smirking, but not chuckling. And it was amusing.

"That's the spirit, Potter. We should yell at each other, okay. While you, acting all nice to me, that's creepy," he said jokingly. The comment was really taking off the weights that were hanging through their conversation and Harry couldn't help to smile into it too. "But, unfortunately, I have to go now. I have a very important job interview tomorrow."

"Really? I have an interview too tomorrow. Where do you going to have it?"

"I'm just trying to push my luck and applying at the Ministry," answered the long haired blonde.

"Me too. Ron and I, and some of the boys from school, are going to apply to be an Auror actually. What post will you apply to?"

The other boy didn't reply the question immediately. He was considering whether to tell Harry the answer or not. But then he answered, "I think… I think you'll have to find out about it tomorrow, Potter." He added his infamous smirk before leaving the former Gryffindor alone. "Night, scarhead."


	3. At the Ministry of Magic

**What's Left Behind chpt.3 **

**A/N: **yay for chapter 3! Thanks for Sandy who had helped me to beta the fic. Enjoy your chocolate!

Figured. Malfoy thought as he saw Harry Potter hanging out with his Gryffindor pack while they're waiting for their job interview. In Draco eyes, he was no different from his friends. All laughing around as they threw jokes on him.

It had surprised everyone that Draco Malfoy, former Dark Eater with very shady family background, would even try to apply the Auror post. Now that the world has turned and the pureblood actually seen as a filthy creature, the boys from the other three houses were actually had the gut to mock at him.

They said if the Death Eaters wanted to put a mole among the Auror they should at least do it in a subtle way. They said Malfoy might not know that Auror job was to protect people, not to kill them. They said the Auror didn't need a big spoiled prince like him. They told him to go back home, to his con daddy. To Azkaban.

He knew something like this would happen. He knew that the wizarding community wasn't on his side anymore. He had prepared for it. He had prepared himself to seat at the far corner of the room instead of at the center of everything like he used to be.

He had stopped listening to them halfway through it. But that wasn't until he saw Harry arrived with his red haired boyfriend. It wasn't that he expected the Boy-Who-Live to actually do something and stop his friends from mocking him. But he was just eager to see him did something heroic, or rightful. And after the whole 'let's be friends' act he'd been showing him since their last meeting back at school, he just couldn't help to wait for something, anything that showed that he was really tried to be friend with him.

Their eyes met a couple of time. There was no anger in his eyes, he was just as stoic as he's always been, but he could see the guilt in that green eyes. He knew Potter wouldn't want such things to happen. But he was with his friends at that time, guess he wouldn't want to spoil the fun and stand on the Death Eater's side. Point taken.

Neither of the boys realized how the subject changed from harmless mockery into something completely different. The next thing they knew, there were this boy saying, "I bet Narcissa Malfoy slept with all the male Death Eaters while his husband doing his time in Azkaban."

Then in a flash, Harry saw Draco pulled out his wand from behind his robe and cried, "SECTUMSEM—."

"Expalliarmus!" Harry blocked the curse before Draco could even finish it and snatched away his wand. He heard other curses thrown from other boys, which sent Malfoy flung backward and hit the wall behind him. Harry saw his lip was bleeding and his temple was bruised. But the blonde was getting up as soon as his body landed back on the floor, didn't even take the pain that he felt from the collision. Apparently, so determined to get back at who ever had said that foul things about his mother.

So determined that he'd rather engaged in fist fight than letting that boy went off so easily. Harry realized that and immediately got himself between Malfoy and the other boys. He gripped the taller boy and pushed him backward before he could harm anyone.

"You don't wanna have a fight with everyone here, Malfoy," Harry whispered to him.

"Tell it to your friends, Potter!" Draco replied from behind his clenched jaws with anger emitting from every part of his body. And right on that moment, Harry realized that the spoiled, prince, brat he used to know had already long gone.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! If you here only to seek trouble, you better—."

"Oh for fuck sake, Weasel. Just go home to your ragged shack, will you?"

Without having to see what his red haired friends was about to do, Harry shouted, "Ron, don't!" he knew Ron was gonna spell another cursed to the former Death Eater, and no it wouldn't do any good to the whole situation.

"What's the matter, Potter? Have to protect your _boyfriend_ before he gets himself into trouble?" mocked the taller boy. Harry looked into the cold, grey eyes that were glinting with hatred.

He understood that the other boys were the one who started it off. But it didn't matter at that time, and Malfoy should restrain his emotion no matter what. Because he was the bad guy in the wizarding community and he was always the wrong one. Always. And he should've known about that before he tried to cast the curse, the dark magic curse.

"MALFOY!"

The word was not coming out of Harry's mouth, though he already opened it to call the name. It was Robards, the Head of the Auror Office, who was calling out the name. And it definitely caught everyone's attention since all the boys in the waiting room turned their heads at him and stopped whatever they were doing at once.

"Get into my office if you still _trying_ to be an Auror." He ordered to the former Death Eater boy.

Harry released his grip from the other boy. "Your wand." The dark haired boy gave Malfoy his wand back. And they were looking at each other for a brief moment before Robards' calling broke the air once again.

"I don't have all day for you, Malfoy!"

And with that, Malfoy walked past through him and the other boys. And as he closed the door behind them, Harry sat back next to Ron.

"You're taking his side," the Weasley murmured suddenly. Harry turned his head and studied Ron intently.

"What do you mean?" he asked finally. "You know I'm not taking anyone's side," Harry said defensively. He knew he was taking Dracos'side and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt guilty to Ron about it. He knew how the blonde had treated all of them back at Hogwarts. It was easier for them, for him, to just blame Malfoy for all the bad things that ever happened to them. And he felt it too. But it wasn't right.

"He's not supposed to be here, Harry," said Ron. He didn't even bother to cover up the hatred in his voice.

"Ron, he may already change, okay. We could at least give him a try."

"He's a Death Eater! He tried to kill Dumbledore! He had tried to kill you! To kill us!" Ron's raised his voice with every sentence he said.

"He had done his time in Azkaban," Harry answered, trying to be as calm as he could.

"Three months, Harry! Only three fucking months! It was summer vacation! It's not even long enough! And you expect him to change?!"

And then a loud thud was heard from Robards' office. Apparently some commotion had been heard from inside the room while Harry having his argument with Ron. Then another thud was heard, followed by a very furious young Malfoy who storming out of the room and slammed the door behind him. He didn't even bother to look at the other boys who were watching him intently. It wasn't even 5 minutes after he got into the office.

"Next! Finnigan!"

XXX

When it was Harry's turn to enter the room, he found Robards beaming at him from behind his desk.

"Sir," Harry offered a nod.

"Yes ,please sit down, Harry Potter." He was still smiling his Cheshire cat grin as Harry took his seat. "Boy, you don't know how lucky we are to have you here."

"Thank you, Sir. But, you know, I may not past the test—."

"Nonsense! You've been through battles far worse than any Auror has ever been in. you are war-tested. Of course you'll past the test. If you want to, I can even make you past the test and the training just like this." He clicked his finger. "That easy. You won't even have to do anything. You can even start to work tomorrow."

Harry smiled at that. People tended to give him special treatment after the war. They didn't realize just how hard it was for Harry to keep himself grounded.

"That's a very interesting offer, Sir. But if you don't mind, I prefer to go through the whole thing with my friends."

"Ah, sure." The man said, looking somewhat disappointed. Maybe, because he had dreamed of a having a 'war-tested' Auror by the day after. "But, you know Harry, if you ever need anything. All you have to do is come here and ask me, okay."

"Thank you very much, Sir. I would do that if I ever need anything," and Harry grinned once again. And then they fell silent. And Harry was waiting.

He just looked at the man and waited him to start the interview. But, instead, Gawain Robards just sat their and watched him. And Harry was frowning.

"Is there anything wrong, son?" he asked, concerned.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me about my background and everything?" Harry replied, confused. And the man laughed.

"No one ever told me that you're a funny young man!" Robards said, amused. And he laughed even harder. But when he saw Harry's frown deepened, his laughter subsided. "Oh… you're not joking."

"Obviously, I'm not, Sir."

"Listen, son. I already know everything I need to know about you. You are _the_ Harry Potter, you defeated the Dark Lords." Without any help from the Ministry, Harry tempted to add. "Everyone knows you. I know you. You have the perfect background to be an Auror. And your academic grades are also good enough. What else do I need to know?" he chuckled. "Son, I've been doing this for quite some time. I could tell whether a person is qualified or not. For example, you. You have a perfect profile to be an Auror. Brave, talented. Now, the Weasley boy. He would need a lot to work out. But he's loyal and that is a one good quality."

"What about Draco Malfoy, Sir?" Harry asked, curious.

"Wh— why do you ask, son? Isn't it already obvious? He's a Death Eater."

"He _used to be_, Sir," Harry correcting.

"Well, even so. He was a prisoner in Azkaban. His dad is still a prisoner and a Death Eater. Although, I have to admit, his academic report is more than enough to pass him to be an Auror."

"So you rejected him." The man looked guilty from the accusation Harry gave him.

"Well, Harry, with his background like that… and…. And he has a very bad temper. You see what happened at the waiting room, right?"

"Sir, he may already change. I've actually talked to him and he's totally different from his old self that I know from Hogwarts. And about the fight back then at the waiting room, believe me, it wasn't his fault. He was provoked." He stared at the old man deeply. "I'd probably do the same thing if it ever happened to me."

Robards sighed. "What are you trying to say here, young man?"

"I just want you to give him a fair chance. And beside, you say his resume is quite good, isn't it? All I'm saying is that you might gonna miss to have one good Auror."

Robards sat back on his chair, fingers entwined against each other and obviously thinking about the possibilities. The loss and the profit from having a Malfoy under his watch. It would be risky of course. If there was one thing that Malfoys were famous for it would be disloyalty. They could turn their back at any time. And the other boys weren't fond of him either. So, obviously, there were more loss than profit.

"Oh, whatever! I'll take the risk. Listen, son, I'll give him a chance. But, under one condition."

XXX

After the interview session with Robards, the boys who considered qualified enough to take the Auror training had to deal with the tight schedule that was laborious, both physically and mentally. They hardly had time to sleep.

Usually once Harry got home, he barely had the chance to eat or take a shower. He would just get into his paperwork before went to his three to four hours sleep. It wasn't all that bad actually, considering the brutal schedule made him barely felt lonely in his empty house. It somehow made Kreacher a good enough housemate.

Even so, Harry was grateful when his mentor cancelled their morning practice. He only had to come to the office to submit his paperwork, which allowed him to sleep till noon and just come to the Ministry after lunch break. Heaven.

He was still sort of dozing off alone when the elevator bell rung dinging and the door opened up to his floor. What woke him up from his drowsiness was a certain blonde tall boy who stood with his usual bored expression waiting on the other side.

"Malfoy," Harry said, trying to sounds and looked surprise. Because he wasn't. He somehow had been expecting to see the other boy showing up at the Ministry sooner or later.

"Potter," Malfoy addressed him briefly. And Harry would've wanted to talk to him more. Asked him about what he was doing there and everything. But as the dark haired boy went out of the elevator, the blonde one got inside it.

But Harry held the door before it could close off behind him. "Hey, what are you doing here? Do they give you a second chance or something?"

The blonde shrugged. "Robards send an owl yesterday. Told me to come here for an interview. And yes, they decided to give me a chance here."

"So the interview went well, I suppose?"

"He's a fanboy of yours; so obviously, I and he wouldn't be the best of pal. But, I realized that I have to suck it up since you're the hero in this story." Harry chuckled on his sarcasm. "And he makes us a partner through the whole training, which is almost about three years if I'm not mistaken. So many chance for me to attempt to murder you, I reckon."

"Really." Harry rolled his eyes. He wasn't surprised. He already knew about the being a partner part since it was the circumstances Robards gave to him. "See, you tomorrow then I guess, Malfoy." The blonde nodded at him and Harry let the door closing off.

He was about to leave when the door reopened. "Scarhead." Harry turned around and found Malfoy holding out the door of the lift. The dark haired lifted an eyebrow because Malfoy usually wasn't the one who had all the willing to talk to him.

"Robards said he had someone talked to him about giving me the second chance. That I might already change." Malfoy started. "You don't happen to know who that person was, do you?"

"No, I don't," answered Harry, faking a confused look.

"Ah, too bad."

"Why?"

"Cause I actually wanted to say thanks to that person." And they fell silent. It was as if there was something in the air, but it was left unspoken. Because they didn't need it to be stated.

"See you tomorrow, Malfoy," said Harry finally, smiled.

_It's nothing._

"Yeah, tomorrow. Scarhead," the blonde replied. Finally, let go off the door and leaned his back gracefully against one side of the elevator wall.

_Yeah, but thanks anyway._


End file.
